


Mitch and His Mother

by Ooft



Category: A Streetcar Named Desire - Tennessee Williams
Genre: Other, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooft/pseuds/Ooft
Summary: Mitch and his mother discuss Blanche, in the style of Tennessee Williams.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Mitch and His Mother

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for my literature class, just an assignment to try and mimic Tennessee Williams as best as we could.

_It’s about twelve a.m. MITCH’S MOTHER lies in her bed. Her bedroom window is open and a slight breeze disturbs the thin curtains. A strip of light from outside illuminates her face, but her body is obscured by blue, floral-pattern bedsheets._

_MITCH enters through the kitchen and stubs his toe on something unseen, knocking a salt shaker from the kitchen table. The blue piano plays softly in the distance._

MITCH’S MOTHER [ _feeble but concerned_ ]: Mitch? Is that you?

MITCH: Yeah Ma, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. 

_MITCH fumbles around awkwardly as he tries to put the salt shaker back._

MITCH’S MOTHER: Are you alright in there? 

MITCH: I’m alright Ma. [ _he finally fixes the table_ ] I’m real sorry, did - did I wake you up? 

MITCH’S MOTHER: No, it’s alright dear, I was already awake. 

MITCH [ _freezes abruptly, frowning_ ]: Your stomach hurting again? 

MITCH’S MOTHER: Don’t worry about it. 

MITCH [ _hesitates. Speaking heavily_ ]: Awright. 

MITCH’S MOTHER: How was your day, dear?

_The music fades._

MITCH: Well Ma, that’s - that’s something I wanted to talk about with you. 

_MITCH enters the bedroom, taking off his jacket and hanging it neatly by a hook on the door. He sits in a worn armchair beside the bed, then stands up again and walks over to the window, grabbing the curtains._

MITCH: Aw, no wonder you woke up! The light’s coming in through the window. 

MITCH’S MOTHER: No dear, I like the light. I spend enough time sleeping anyway. 

_MITCH hesitates, but steps away from the window, disturbing the curtains. More light shines through to reveal a bedside table with several bottles of medication and a vase of wilting yellow begonias. The armchair is also partially lit, but MITCH sits with his head resting on his hand, out of the light._

MITCH’S MOTHER: Now, what was it you wanted to talk about? 

MITCH [ _startled_ ] : Oh! Well, Ma, I met this - this lady today. 

MITCH’S MOTHER [ _tries to sit up, but fails_ ]: Who is she? 

MITCH [ _with a bashful grin, though his excited rambling contrasts his shyness_ ]: Well, she’s - she’s staying at Stanley and Stella’s place. She’s Stella’s sister, actually! She’s real nice, Ma, real nice. A real Southern belle, you know?

MITCH’S MOTHER: Would she look after you? 

MITCH: I- I think she would. She speaks French, you know? She seems like some real cultured type, knows about literature and things. 

MITCH’S MOTHER [ _cautiously_ ]: Does she now? 

MITCH [ _not noticing his mother’s cautious tone_ ]: She used to be a teacher back at her old place, teaching all the kids about important stuff. Real smart lady, she is. 

MITCH’S MOTHER: And why ain’t she working now? 

MITCH [ _stops rambling_ ]: I - I don’t know. It’s the summer, I guess. 

_They are both silent as MITCH tries to remember the conversation. He shifts uncomfortably, his face coming into the light._

MITCH’S MOTHER: Well, how old is she? 

MITCH [ _He pauses, then says quietly_ ]: I don’t know. 

_A DRUNK’S voice can be heard coming from the street below._

DRUNK [ _slurred, with the impression he can barely walk_ ]: Mary! Mary baby, why won’t you come back to me? 

_A shrill female voice calls back, presumably not ‘Mary’._

WOMAN: You quit hollerin’ down there! You keep this up and you’ll wake my babies! 

DRUNK [ _angry_ ]: Aw, yeah? Well you tell my woman to get her ass down here, then I’ll quit! 

_There is an unintelligible yell, followed by the smashing of glass. The DRUNK yelps, before the street falls silent again._

MITCH: I wish you’d let me close that window. 

MITCH’S MOTHER [ _sighing_ ] : Someone should tell that boy he ain’t gonna get his baby back hollerin’ like that. 

MITCH: Maybe she died like my old girl, and he’s just grieving. 

MITCH’S MOTHER: This... [ _Distastefully, with particular emphasis on the name._ ] ‘Blanche’ girl, she reminds you of her, doesn’t she? What, with her pretty face and fancy words? 

MITCH [ _shifts uncomfortably, coming back into the light_ ]: A bit. She’s got this sweet look about her and it - it reminded me of my girl, but… it ain’t the same.

MITCH’S MOTHER: Well of course it ain’t the same, it’s a different girl!

MITCH: Yeah. [ _Slowly_ ] She asked me to cover this light in her room with a paper lantern she’d bought and I didn’t think anything of it, but now… I don’t know. Maybe she did it for a reason.

_MITCH’S MOTHER coughs violently. The bedsheets covering her fall away to show her frail body in the light. MITCH quickly stands up to pull the sheets back to cover her, before rushing over to the window and pulling the curtains closed roughly as if they offended him. Muffled light still shines through, however MITCH ignores this and returns back to the bed. MITCH’S MOTHER has fallen asleep. MITCH leaves the room and goes to the kitchen, standing at the window. The song “Dream” by Vaughn Monroe plays softly in the distance. MITCH lights a cigarette and gazes down at the street below, taking long, slow drags while he thinks. When he finishes the first cigarette, he pulls out another, but keeps hold of the lighter._

MITCH [ _sighing, rubbing the inscription_ ]: Aw, Lizzie. I gotta get this thing repolished, huh? Silver’s all tarnished. 

_MITCH hums along to the song as the scene ends, singing to himself, though it appears as if he is singing to the lighter._

MITCH [ _singing_ ]: 

Dream, when you’re feeling blue, 

Dream, it’s the thing to do...

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
